


The Tanchōzuru

by apiegohome, nicayal, silvermyth



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Ice Skating, M/M, Sora x Riku, Soriku - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiegohome/pseuds/apiegohome, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicayal/pseuds/nicayal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermyth/pseuds/silvermyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sora had always felt a close affinity with the beauty of winter, so it was only a natural progression that he should fall in love with ice skating, too. </p><p>Figure Skating AU. Collab with Silvermyth and Nicayal! A collection of short stories set in the same AU. Eventual Sora x Riku.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tanchōzuru

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of my contribution to the Figure Skating AU Collab ‘Iced’ with fellow writer's Sylvermyth and Nicayal! You can find the rest of the collection on here or on fanfiction.net, so please check out their stories, too! Sylvermyth is writing from Axel's POV; Nicayal from Roxas' (and possibly Riku), respectively. These stories will all involve AkuRoku and Soriku in a snarky, competitive, figure skating setting. 
> 
> I am in no way an expert on figure skating, but I've done a bit of research to at least be semi-accurate. Please forgive me for any glaring errors!

**The Tanchõzuru.**

Most people would assume, from just looking at a boy like Sora, that his favourite time of the year was the long, hot days of the summertime. In the part of the world in which he lived, his naturally tanned skin seemed odd, as if he’d spent a lot of his time on a beach somewhere, and his overall countenance was always bright and sunny; his smile literally lighting up a whole room with its warmth – but all those things aside, the season that Sora had always loved best, was actually winter.

Everything about the winter season made Sora’s little heart sing. It was about snuggling up under four comforters with a mug of hot chocolate clasped tightly between his two hands; it was getting to wear fluffy ear warmers to school, and blue mittens made just for him by his grandmother; it was in the way the sparkling night sky seemed clearer, the elements rawer – more _real,_ but most of all, the wintertime was _ice_ and _snow._

Snow was beautiful; at such a young age Sora couldn’t yet comprehend how the little bits of white confetti falling outside of his bedroom window seemed to be fluttering down from the sky itself. He never made the connection between rain and snow, because with rain, it always seemed like the sky was crying…but with snow, it was celebrating. His mother would often have to call him inside as he forgot everything else and stood mesmerised; the confetti falling all around him, settling on his thin shoulders and dampening his tenaciously spiked hair. He would lift his hands high above his head and stare up at them transfixed, as the strikingly cold snow drifted through his splayed fingers.  

Like chocolate to milk, or macaroni with cheese, Sora could never enjoy the snow without its perfect accompaniment. He had always loved to go fast, his boundless levels of energy forever demanding that he never stood still for long, so it only seemed natural that his fascination with winter would include the exhilarating rush of ice skating, as well. 

It was his older brother, Vanitas, who had first shoved a hockey stick into his hand and helped lace him up into his own pair of skates when he was just four years old. His father; being a keen player of Ice Hockey himself in his youth, was overjoyed to see his sons so interested in the sport that had given him such lasting memories.

Vanitas played with his school friends regularly, and often took Sora along to watch. Sora’s big, blue eyes wouldn’t leave the rink for a second as the older kids dodged and weaved around each other, their game of hockey clumsy but fast-paced. His heart would beat like a drum. It was so exciting. He wanted to play, too.   

Afterwards, when the other boys had played long enough and tired themselves out, Vanitas would hold Sora’s hand and lead him out onto the ice; Sora wrapped up in an oversized padded coat, looking for all the world like a fluffy marshmallow as he tottered forwards on his miniature skates. The smooth surface of the ice easily propelled him along, and Vanitas always made sure he never fell too hard, but where most children his age would have felt scared and unstable on the slippery ice, Sora only felt this overwhelming sense of happiness and wonder. The ice instantly felt familiar to him, even more so than walking on solid ground. Within the space of a few months, and with regular practice, Sora was skating without his brother’s assistance. It was like flying; the cool, crisp air of the rink filled his lungs and stung at his cheeks, his feet gliding and sweeping effortlessly over the ice. He trembled sometimes, and held his arms out for balance, but Sora never gave up. Even though he was still so young, he was already determined to be the best.

For many years, Sora played Ice Hockey, and with the help of his brother, became exceptionally good at it. Even in the warmer months he practiced skating in his free time, loving nothing more than being on the ice. Eventually he joined the junior team at school and played games weekly at the town’s local rink. He was fierce – confident, having no fear of injury or failure at only six years old.

His love of moving fluidly across the ice was a natural progression from simply wobbling around in his skates, so it would only make sense that his passion for the art would grow to soaring, new heights.

Finishing a practice session one afternoon at his local rink, Sora glided over towards the boards feeling slightly weary, but accomplished. Vanitas was already sitting off to one side and removing his skates. It had just been the two of them today, Vanitas being a couple of years senior, usually practiced with his older teammates, but whenever he could, he would always made time to skate with Sora.

It was a Tuesday and as Sora started patiently unlacing his own skates he looked up at the rink and instantly realised that they had never been here to practice on a Tuesday before. There was a group of five people he had never seen before, all of them a lot older than him and Vanitas, and they were stepping out onto the ice one by one. Whereas his movements on the ice had always been all about speed and sharp turns, these people moved nothing like hockey skaters. They danced – _twirled,_ their steps light and easy, almost delicate in their smooth connection with the ice. Everything was silken motion, sweeping turns, graceful spins and soaring jumps.

Sora was entranced; he likened the skaters to the rippling fluidity of water, like flurries of snowflakes caught in a swirling updraft. Unbidden to his mind, he was reminded of a documentary he had seen on the television about the Japanese Red-crowned Crane – they were so elegant and _beautiful._

Noticing where he was looking, Vanitas nudged his shoulder. “ _You’re too young to be looking at girls,”_ he’d teased, Sora blinking out of his reverie.

“ _…Why don’t we skate like that?”_ He remembered asking innocently. Vanitas, now looking over at the other skaters too, promptly snorted and shot him an arrogant smirk. “ _They’re just prancing around like a bunch of fairies. Hockey is what real men do.”_

Sora didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help but think differently. In his mind, fairies were magical mysterious beings, and the skaters in front of him _definitely_ seemed like that. Sure, hockey was fun, but where the game seemed to more brutalise and dominate the ice, the skaters in front of him respected it – their close partnership so perfect, it was as if they were _one._

Sora managed to tear his eyes away and dutifully followed Vanitas out of the rink, but his thoughts stayed with the figure skaters inside. It was in that moment, that Sora wanted nothing more than to be exactly like them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We commissioned [Kett](http://xxcastingshadows.tumblr.com) for an adorable bebe Sora for this AU! Please go look at her other art, because she is just lovely and amazing!
> 
> \-- silvermyth


	2. Unfurls its Wings...

“Sora – _SORA!”_

Sucking in a sharp breath and steeling himself, Sora stopped thinking and just _moved;_ the cool, crisp air of the rink whipping at his flushed cheeks, his team mates and opponents alike all blurring past him as he rigidly trained all of his focus on Goofy shouting his name. Settling the hockey stick more securely in his gloved hands, Sora hunched forwards, his skates flying over the hard ice as he readied himself. Goofy, seeing him open and ready, swung his stick in a harsh downward slash, firing the puck in his direction.

It was all a matter of seconds, Sora chomping at his mouthguard, sweat slipping down the side of his face and soaking cold into his helmet strap; his body’s movements all operating on raw instinct. His weight shifted, muscles coiled like a spring, one of his hands sliding further down the shaft as the lie curved and flexed, the blade clacking against the ice, and then – _yes._ The puck was _his!_

Two rough thuds of his heart _,_ and Sora was lining up the slap shot, his eyes locked on the careless opening left unprotected by the opposing team’s distracted goalie. Grunting with the effort, Sora rammed the puck out towards the net – just in time, a defenceman body-checking him hard in the shoulder.

He lost his balance instantly and his skates slipped out from under him, but his eyes never left that tiny, black puck – not for a _single second._ Time slowed down, the muscles in his legs propelling him back upright before he barely even touched the ice, his forearm protector leveraging him to his feet and _yes – YES._ He’d made it – he’d made the goal! 

A horn blasted from somewhere high above him, signalling his gamble had paid off and then suddenly he was being glomped on all sides, his teammates wrapping him up in a rough, boisterous group hug.

“On ya, Sora!”

“Way to go!”

The game was far from over, but Sora’s goal would most likely give them the win.

A whole head taller, Goofy grinned down at Sora and shook his shoulder companionably. “I knew you’d get it, Sora!” He pushed Sora away from him and moved to get back into position himself, the rest of the team still chortling around them, but already following suit. Sora puffed out a breath, and grinned; the heightened adrenaline coursing through him. It really had been a great game so far, and Sora was absolutely loving it.

It had been some time since his first foray out on the ice, and Sora was now nine years old. He’d been playing ice hockey with his schoolmates ever since he was six, and not even the warmer months could curb his enthusiasm. The majority of his free time was spent out on the ice, practicing his speed and technique. The school’s hockey equipment generally wasn’t in the best of conditions, most of it being a few years old, but where other players found the imperfections irritating, Sora just found it character building. The lie of his hockey stick was slightly too high for him and the shoulder pads assigned to him sat a little awkwardly on his thin frame, but Sora still strived to be the best.

After years of solid practice and dedication there was no question that Sora was on his way to achieving that; he was a real asset to his atom team, and his teammates loved him for his tenacity. Playing Ice hockey _was_ exhilarating and he genuinely enjoyed it, but it still hadn’t succeeded in capturing his heart…

Immersing himself back in the game, Sora slid into position and forced himself to focus. Despite his best efforts, his mind still wandered and his anticipation for what was to come after the game steadily grew.  

Sora…was keeping a secret.  

For a year and half now, he’d been quietly practicing figure skating.

One afternoon, when they’d rode their bicycles over to the rink after school and he was only practicing with his brother, Sora had decided to stay a little longer. Vanitas, being none the wiser had simply shrugged and told him to be careful on his ride home. He left, having no reason to suspect Sora of anything.

It had taken him a couple of weeks to work up the courage, but Sora had finally decided to approach one of the older skaters who regularly practiced figure skating at the local rink. Selphie was a high school student from a neighbouring school, and a number of years older than Sora, but she had been overjoyed to have someone so ‘ _cute’_ and ‘ _little’_ to take under her wing. Selphie practiced skating every day – morning and night, and Sora began sneaking out more and more to practice with her before her scheduled lessons with her coach. Already having the technique and speed of basic skating down pat, Sora had proven himself to be a fast learner when executing more complicated manoeuvres. He wanted to fly – _soar,_ like the high school kids did; Selphie patiently guiding him through the most common elements – toe loop jumps, Salchows and the slightly trickier Lutz. She even helped him attempt the dreaded Axel. He learned the difference between toe jumps and edge jumps, the most basic of spins and how to hold his body correctly to optimum effect. It was exciting to finally be practicing what he had only dreamed of learning, and after months of having to use the rink’s hire skates, he eventually saved up enough of his weekly allowance to buy his own pair.

From then on, Sora felt like he was Kal-El. When he played ice hockey he was Clark Kent wearing his everyday disguise, but then in secret, he would switch his restrictive hockey skates for his sleek figure skating ones and be instantly transformed into the _great Superman_ – flying over the ice – all fluid _raw_ motion; his spins and jumps only slightly unbalanced and clumsy as his little heart beat right out of his chest.

He randomly discovered that the old janitor who worked at the rink would always let him in a few hours earlier on the weekends if he made sure to bring him some of his mother’s homemade chocolate and pecan brownies, just so he could practice just that little bit longer. In the winter season, he never left home without his skates, sometimes wandering onto other people’s properties to utilise the frozen ponds in their backyards.

The day he finally perfected his Axel jump, Sora had landed with a flourish and turned around only to find an entire family standing on the edge of the pond he was using, applauding him wildly. They were all so nice to him, he ended up practicing there regularly. He brought the family several helpings of brownies, too.

Barrelling into the violent clash of players shifting and swerving off to his side, Sora effortlessly took possession of the puck and passed it to the other forward on his team who was waiting ready off to his right. With a fierce look of concentration on his face, Donald fumbled to keep the puck under his control before slinging it with as much power as he could muster, over towards their goal. Sora groaned as it was easily intercepted by their opponent’s goaltender. He skated back, skirting around Goofy and looking for another opening as the other team took possession and shot the puck back up the other end of the rink. Sora grit his teeth, tightening his grip on his hockey stick. They were running out of time. If they didn’t keep on top of it, the game was going to be close.

Everything worked well for a while with Sora squeezing in figure skating practice wherever he could but, like with all good things…something eventually had to give and he knew it. It had only been a matter of time before Vanitas caught on to his clandestine skating.

 _“The hell are you watching that crap for?”_ Vanitas had demanded a couple of nights previous, wreathing Sora’s phone out of his hand and staring angrily down at the youtube video playing on the screen.

 _“G-Give it back!”_ Sora cried, swinging his arms wildly, but Vanitas was already much taller and easily evaded his flustered attempts at snatching the phone back.

Vanitas’ lip curled in disgust as the figure skater in the video silently performed; Sora discretely watching it with the sound on mute. _“What pointless_ shit _– it’s not even a real_ sport. _”_  

Sora had gasped, still so shocked to hear Vanitas use a swear. “ _It so_ is _a real sport! That stuff they’re doing is really hard to do!_ ”

Vanitas’ eyes instantly narrowed. He dropped Sora’s phone to the floor, fisting a hand in the front of Sora’s shirt instead. He wreathed him up off the couch, their faces inches apart. “ _How would you know, Sora?_ ” He had asked quietly, his tone of voice dangerous.

Sora swallowed thickly and said nothing; just stared at the swirl of dark promise in Vanitas’ golden eyes. He was frightened. His brother’s short temper was almost legendary, but he’d never been on the receiving end before.

“ _I - ! It looks hard!_ ” Sora backpedalled, his toes struggling to support his weight, Vanitas still holding him near clear off the ground. “ _W-What’s so bad about it, anyway? I don’t get it!_ ”

Vanitas, still suspicious but placated for now, slowly lowered Sora back down to the floor and released his shirt. “ _Forget it, Sor, I already told you. Fairies do ice skating, and that’s not what we are. Just stick to hockey.”_

Feeling ashamed and not exactly sure why, Sora had retrieved his phone and reluctantly closed the youtube app. He was upset, but more determined than ever to continue skating. Figure skating _was_ hard to do, so what did Vanitas know?    

The final horn sounding and his hockey game over and won, Sora wasted no time in saying goodbye to his teammates and leaving for home. There was an obvious bounce in his step.

With Vanitas now watching him like a hawk, and Selphie away at regionals, Sora hopped on his bicycle and rode further and further out of town, searching for somewhere suitable to practice his skating without the fear of being discovered. The frigid air was freezing, but he’d wrapped himself up well before leaving the rink. He’d only been planning this reconnaissance for _weeks,_ knowing that he didn’t have to be home for a couple of hours yet; his mum and Vanitas left to assume he was simply still out with his teammates celebrating.

Finding a deserted property that looked promising, Sora stashed his bicycle behind some bushes and trudged his way through thick snow before hauling his small frame over a rough wooden fence. There was a large ‘ _trespassers will be shot’_ sign emblazoned on the gate, but Sora paid it no mind because he had finally found what he was seeking.

Beyond the fence and a good way away from the road was a large frozen pond, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The banks were steep and the trees around the edges were bleak and bare, but Sora thought it was perfect. Off to one side, right against the southern bank of the pond was an old, dilapidated house. Sora eyed it nervously for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that no one could possibly still be living there.

Throwing down his backpack and scrambling to get his skates on, Sora wasted no time in sliding down the bank and stepping onto the ice. Like a regal Japanese crane, Sora unfurled his wings and flew across the frozen surface of the pond. He concentrated and emptied his mind; the elements coming to him easier, the flow of his movements slightly clumsy but still sure.

 _God,_ how he loved this – loved this wonderful feeling of _freedom_.

As he spun and twirled upon the ice, losing himself in his art, the heavy clouds above him decided to celebrate along with him, soft white snow slowly beginning to fall. Sora continued to skate, the snow now fluttering and dancing in the air all around him. He was instantly transfixed. The snow was so _beautiful._ He didn’t feel the cold at all.

Spinning in place, Sora held out his arms and lifted his face up towards the sky. This…was where he belonged. No matter what obstacles he had to face… _this_ was where he was meant to be…

 


	3. Gains Momentum

The Earth kept turning on its axis and the seasons kept inevitably changing. The heat of summer gave way to the freeze of winter, time and time again, and along with the trees divesting themselves of their leaves and colour, and the ice freezing, and the snow falling, Sora’s life irrevocably changed, too.

The years seem to fly for Sora like flicking through one of his favourite comic books, and before he knew it, he was suddenly on the cusp of becoming a teenager. Although still small and thin for a twelve – soon to be thirteen-year-old, the shortcomings of Sora’s stature never seemed to bother him and his smile was still as bright as a lighthouse beacon in a storm. He was happy; life was good, and every snow-filled cloud had a silver lining.  

He had been practicing his skating for a number of years now, and still never grew tired of it – there was always something new for Selphie to show him. His jump revolutions eventually doubled, then slowly began to triple as he learnt how to properly utilise his core strength and trust in his keen sense of balance. He was determined – _hungry_ to know everything there was to know about the art of figure skating, and Selphie was all too happy to have a student whose passion rivalled her own _._

It was a fervent wish of Sora’s, to one day better hone his skills and learn properly under a professional coach, but unfortunately, (and although he would never admit it), he was still very much afraid of his older brother. Sora had seen firsthand what Vanitas had done to other kids out on the hockey rink, and it was a very real fear of his, that he wouldn’t find himself exempt from the older boy’s wrath if he was to ever find out about his girly, _‘fairy’_ skating. He hated feeling like a coward, and wanted desperately to stand up for himself, but while Vanitas was bigger and so much stronger than he, this way of learning would have to do for now.

Every year, without fail, Sora would watch the national figure skating championships online. He already had his favourites to look out for, but there was always one skater in particular that he would watch more closely than all of the others.

Ventus Strife’s performances on the ice were simply _amazing._ He competed at junior level, but at only 16 years old was already flooring the judges with his perfect execution of his quadruple toe loops and triple axels. His footwork and artistry were second to none and when he stood up on that podium with his gold medal in hand, and that wide, joyful grin on his face, Sora was absolutely star-struck.

There was something in the way Ventus smiled that told Sora he was a good, genuine person, who always tried his hardest, and that was something he couldn’t have admired more. Ventus inspired him, and whatever it took, Sora was determined to be standing up there on that podium too, one day – holding up that shiny gold medal and grinning from ear to ear. He would wave to the cheering crowd and breathlessly think – _I’ve done it!_ I – am _– the best!_  

Oh yes – he dreamed big, little Sora.

He all but _begged_ Selphie to teach him every different element she knew – no matter how insignificant some of them might have seemed to her. He learnt how to smoothly balance through a 3-turn and vault straight into a flawless flip jump; loved knowing how to pull off cheeky little walley jumps and bouncing bunny hops – how to do a sit spin, and lose all sense of time in an endless, flying camel. Double axel – double toe loop sequences were quick to follow, as well as every different style of jump, and every variation of a spin there was, because he had a _dream_ to make a _reality_. He had already decided that no matter where life decided to take him, skating would always hold a prominent chunk of his heart.

Not for the first time, Sora wondered what was even so _bad_ about practicing figure skating anyway? He could understand well enough that on the outside it seemed like only something girls would want to do, but he knew firsthand how rigorous and gruelling of a sport, figure skating actually was. 

You couldn’t only have the knowledge of keeping your balance on the ice, or knowing the basics of skating in and out – figure skating was so much more than that. The artistry that was involved, as well as your carefully timed movements over the ice, presentation and fluidity in your elements, and not to mention the hours devoted to honing your body’s flexibility and core strength – all of these things played an integral part in making sure your skating performance met an exceptional standard. You had to have _grace_ – and move with _elegance_ , but also embody raw physical strength at the same time. Simply knowing how to skate didn’t teach you any of that, and certainly not a rough, brutish sport like _hockey_.

Sora had spent another great afternoon down at the local rink with Selphie, slowly working on perfecting his double salchow and edgework, but now he was just happy to be getting home. It was twilight and the temperature had dropped considerably as the winter sun dipped below the skyline; the street lamps blinking on, one by one. He didn’t usually feel the cold so much, but today was proving to be an exception. His bicycle, perhaps feeling the dramatic change in temperature as well, creaked and squeaked underneath him all the way as he’d pushed himself to pedal faster; his hands locked, frozen around the handlebars.

Finally cycling up the last stretch of his driveway, Sora wasted no time in propping his bike up against the wall by the front door, and dug around in his coat pocket for his house keys. He hefted his backpack higher up on his shoulder as he finally managed to get the door open and let himself in to the warm, inviting entryway of his home. Both of his parents routinely chose to work late, but it was obvious someone was home. The house was still relatively dark inside, and he couldn’t immediately smell anything cooking, but there was some sort of sports replay blaring from the television in the nearby living room.

“Sora, is that you?” His mother called from somewhere further inside the house. Her tone of voice was noticeably distracted. 

With stiff fingers, Sora pulled off his gloves and unwound the thick, woolly scarf from around his neck before casually dropping it all on the floor beside the door. He flicked off his shoes next and started unbuttoning his coat. “Yeah, Mum, sorry I’m a bit late! I got side-tracked down at the rink!”

“That’s okay, sweetie!” His mother replied. It sounded like she was in the kitchen. “Your Father and I have a business dinner to attend tonight, but I’ve left money for you and Vanitas to get pizza!”

“Sounds awesome!” Sora shouted in answer, already starting to grin. Despite how tired he felt, he’d never, _ever_ be sad at the prospect of pizza for dinner…well, for any meal of the day, really. He’d practiced really hard this afternoon and his aching legs and hips were already trying to convince him he’d be better off having a shower and going straight to bed, but pizza was just too good to pass on.   

Pulling his coat from his shoulders, Sora was in the process of lowering his backpack to the floor at his feet when all of a sudden, Vanitas flew out at him from the living room doorway. Taken completely by surprise, Sora squeaked and reflexively grabbed for his pack, just as Vanitas reached for it, too, and roughly wreathed it out of his hand.

“H-Hey, wait –!” 

Vanitas didn’t even pause as he promptly grabbed each side of the pack like prying open the jaws of a crocodile and ripped the bag wide open. 

And there, right on the very top – as plain as the nose on your face – was Sora’s pair of white figure skates. 

Time almost seemed to stand still as the two brothers both stared down at the skates; one with a growing sense of fear, and one with mounting anger.

“So it’s true,” Vanitas murmured. “My brother’s a fucking queer.”

Silently fuming, Vanitas looked up at Sora and hurled the backpack to the ground between them. Sora’s eyes nervously followed the packs descent, one of his skates tumbling out on impact. He stared at it, the skate’s sharpened blade glinting in the dim light, almost as if it was mocking him.  

“One of my friends comes and tells me this afternoon that he saw _you_ prancing around the rink, looking like a wussy, little _girl._ ” Sora took a nervous step backwards as the volume of Vanitas’ voice steadily began to rise.

“You’re _pathetic!_ ” Vanitas spat, viciously booting the backpack and skates straight into the adjacent wall. “I can’t believe I defended you! How could you embarrass me like this? _Huh!?”_ Advancing sharply, he shoved Sora hard, knocking him back against the front door.

“ _Oomphf!”_

All at once, the breath was knocked right out of Sora’s lungs. He stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the door just in time.

He blinked and squinted as light suddenly flooded the room, his mother marching down the hallway towards them. _“What_ is going on in here!?”

“Sora’s been _figure skating_ with some _older girl_ down at the rink,” Vanitas sneered, his eyes never leaving Sora for a second. 

Sora pulled himself upright and shakily stepped away from the door. His aching legs were now _screaming_ at him; his right shoulder and the back of his head throbbing, as well.

Misinterpreting the situation completely, Sora’s mother was quick to remark on what she _did_ understand. “Now, Sora, we’ve talked about this, you know you’re too young to start dating. Older girls are trouble; they’ll distract you from your studies.”

Vanitas snorted. “No, Mum, he’s doing _figure skating,_ that frilly, twirly stuff only girls and poofters do.” 

His mother gasped sharply and turned toward Vanitas. “Vanitas! I don’t like you using that word, and oh…”

Offering him a smile Sora wasn’t quite sure he liked the look of, his mother teetered over to him on her six inch heels and warmly wrapped him up into a comforting hug. “Sora, honey, no matter what you enjoy doing, or who you choose to love, your _family_ (here, she shot a quick disapproving glare at her older son) will _always_ support you. Okay?”

His hands curling into loose fists, Sora narrowed his eyes and glared at Vanitas from over his mother’s arm. Sighing, he gently pushed himself free of her embrace and frowned at the floor instead.

“I – I don’t like boys, Mum. I just like figure skating.” He took a deep breath and looked up, giving her a tentative smile. “It’s fun…and really challenging…and my friend Selphie who’s teaching me says I’m a super-fast learner!” 

His mother’s smile softened and she cooed quietly, squeezing at one of his cheeks. “Well, that’s good, then – I’m so glad you’ve found something safer than hockey!” To anyone else it would have come across as being patronising, but this was just how his mother was. She was always genuine and warm; Sora could always count on her. With her support alone, he already felt a lot more courageous.  

For his part, Vanitas had just stood to the side and said nothing throughout the entire exchange. He openly glared at Sora, his arms folded tight across his chest. It was obvious he didn’t agree with his mother’s opinion at all.

“What’s all the commotion? What’s safer than hockey?” Sora’s father suddenly joined them, glancing distractedly between his sons before looking straight at his wife. He shifted the thick coat hanging over his arm and retrieved his car keys from the entryway side table. “We’ll be late, we’ve got to go,” he continued, too in a rush to be truly interested in an answer.  

“Sora was just telling us that he’s been practicing _figure skating_ ,” his mother gushed, still clearly excited to learn of Sora’s seemingly new interest. “I always _loved_ watching those routines at the Winter Olympics. _So_ beautiful!” 

His car keys in hand, Sora’s father paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “…Isn’t that a bit feminine? I would rather he just play hockey.”

“Dear, you can’t say that!”

Sora’s mother wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a light squeeze. “Sora, baby, we _support you_ , okay? _End of story_. If you want to do figure skating instead of hockey, then you can.” She squeezed him again before moving away, but Sora barely felt it, still so focussed on his father.

Sora’s father didn’t say anything more about it – hardly even spared him another glance as he quickly looked back down at his wristwatch and began walking towards the garage. “Anyway, we’ve got to go. We’ll be home late, boys, so make sure you go to bed on time.”

His mother hurried to follow him, quickly retrieving her coat and purse from the kitchen. “Yes, boys, your father and I are trusting you both not to stay up too late. Don’t forget you’ve both got school tomorrow.” She clacked her way back down the hallway, waving a finger at Vanitas.

“And Vanitas, I _won’t_ tolerate you bullying Sora. You’re too old for this kind of nonsense, so let’s put this all behind us and try to get along.”

“Yeah, Mum. Sure.” Vanitas just rolled his eyes, his words completely lacking any trace of sincerity.

Sora miserably kept silent and stared down at the floor, his mother already leaving them with one last goodbye as she stepped into the garage and closed the door behind her. He heard the distinctive sound of his father’s car starting, then the tell-tale rattle of the garage door opening.

Sora felt…lost. Every time he blinked he saw his father’s look of callous disappointment burned into the back of his eyelids. 

Why... _Why_ was he such a disappointment? …Why was enjoying something like figure skating so _terrible?_

Seeing Sora’s distress, Vanitas smirked and breathed out a nasty laugh.

“Told you.”

Still half lost in his tumultuous thoughts, Sora just quietly regarded him. All at once, he felt like the God, Atlas – condemned to holding up The Heavens on his shoulders for _all_ eternity.  

“…What the hell would you know?” He mumbled, his eyes alight with his rising anger. “Just because _you_ don’t like it – doesn’t mean there’s anything _wrong_ with it!” He _knew_ he was asking for trouble, but he still felt like taking a chance for once. He was _tired_ of being pushed around for liking something that was so harmless.

Vanitas snorted derisively, his smug expression still firmly in place. “You saw Dad’s face – he doesn’t want a sissy son like _you!_ Next you’ll be skipping around hand in hand with another boy and taking it up the arse.”

“S-So _what?_ I don’t _care_ what you think, I’m still gonna skate…” Sora looked grim, but determined as Vanitas’ eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Your…your words can’t hurt me.”

A feral smile curled Vanitas’ lips then, his expression eerily calm.

“True.”

Sora had half a second to prepare himself and then Vanitas was instantly upon him. 

He grabbed Sora hard by the shoulder and rammed him back against the wall, a clenched fist swinging towards his ribs. The blood was rushing in Sora’s ears and everything strangely felt like stop-motion – the muscles in his legs and abdomen tensing as his body moved on instinct and twisted out of harm’s way. 

It was all over in a matter of seconds but Sora wasn’t sure who was more shocked between the two of them. At the moment Vanitas’ hand made contact with the wall where Sora’s ribs used to be, Sora had already balled his own fist and slammed it right into the side of Vanitas’ face.

Reeling and crying out, Vanitas stumbled backwards, clutching at the side of his head.

Still thoroughly surprised he’d managed to hold his own, Sora was quick to distance himself. He scooped up his backpack, and shoved his skates back inside. “I – I didn't mean that, I'm sorry!” He backed away from Vanitas, edging his way closer to the staircase.

He really hadn’t meant to hurt him, he’d just…wanted to protect himself.  

Vanitas sluggishly dropped his hand from his head. He turned to face Sora slowly, his eyes glinting with deadly purpose.

Sora wasn’t an idiot, he knew he’d only gotten lucky. There was no way he could win a physical fight against his older brother. The three, nearly four years in their age difference spoke for itself, and it certainly didn’t help that Sora was still a little on the small side. Where was that growth spurt when he _needed it?_

As Vanitas advanced on him, Sora scrambled up the first two steps of the stairs. He shook his head fiercely, clutching his pack to his chest. “Y-you heard what Mum said! She'll be mad if we fight!” 

Vanitas actually paused and considered his words, the silence between them growing intense as they stared each other down. Sora expected him to start yelling again, to maybe try and get another hit in, but oddly enough he didn’t do any of these things.

Vanitas just smiled and then laughed, all without the slightest hint of malice. Tensing, Sora was far from convinced; he didn’t let his guard down in the slightest. If anything, he was even more unsettled.

“Lucky you’ve got _Mummy_ here to protect you, huh?” Vanitas’ voice was barely above the volume of the television still blaring in the nearby living room, but even so, Sora still heard every word perfectly.

Vanitas was still smiling. 

“Let’s see how _well_ you skate tomorrow then, shall we?”

Sora immediately knew what Vanitas was referring to and his hands unconsciously tightened around the backpack he still held against his chest. He could feel one of his skate’s blades pressing hard into the palm of his right hand.

Tomorrow…was hockey practice, and the Bantam and Midget teams would be training together. The school had only just started implementing the change a couple of weeks ago, simply trying to save money on rink hire, and to help the younger team improve through friendly interaction with their older teammates.

Sora…would be playing against Vanitas, and he didn’t like what his brother was promising. He wanted to believe so badly that Vanitas would never intentionally injure him, but right at this moment…he wasn’t so sure.


	4. Takes Flight, and -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is only part of the story, since I’m writing this Iced AU with two other authors. If you want to get the whole picture, make sure you check out Sylvermyth and Nicayal’s stories, too! Silvermyth writes a very sexy, confident Axel, and Nicayal writes sassy, angsty Roxas! Eventually all of our stories will match up in the same timeline. This isn’t an RP, we’ve just all chosen a character to focus on, set in the same world. Eventually Riku will be joining the mix, too :) 
> 
> Please note, I am aware that in minor ice hockey, they’re not generally allowed to use body checks, but for the sake of the story, they will be able to, in this instance.

Sora was uncharacteristically quiet as he sat in the rink’s locker room and changed into his hockey gear and skates. Goofy and Donald were further down the row, jostling each other and laughing about some movie they’d watched on the television the night before, but Sora really didn’t feel like joining in. He was definitely more on the tired side, having spent an uneasy night at home with a chair shoved up underneath his bedroom door’s handle, just in case Vanitas decided to change his mind and try getting back at him. He’d slept fitfully, with his arms curled protectively around his pair of ice skates

After their altercation down in the entryway, Sora had gone straight up to his room and stayed there for the rest of the night. True to form, Vanitas had still ordered pizza, the delicious smell of it wafting up the stairs, and under Sora’s door, but even then he had still stayed put. He’d been so hungry, and his legs had ached, and he’d wanted nothing more than to take a shower, but he was still so unsettled by what Vanitas had said to him he hadn’t had the energy for taking any chances.

School today had been just as gruelling, and now finally, it was the afternoon. He’d trudged onto a bus with the rest of his teammates and headed down to the local rink for hockey practice, but Sora couldn’t say he was really looking forward to it. Avoiding any kind of interaction with Vanitas was now going to be near impossible.

“Hey. Sora.”

Sora jumped to his feet and whirled, swiftly lifting his arms into a fighting stance. He was immediately on guard; Vanitas suddenly standing behind him.

Vanitas just rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Sor, I’m not going to attack you.”

Sora said nothing, but warily lowered his arms all the same. After yesterday, he honestly didn’t know what to expect anymore.

Vanitas was already dressed for practice, with his skates on, and his helmet and gloves tucked under one of his arms. As the captain of his team, it was his duty to be out on the ice first, corresponding with their coach about the order of drills for the afternoon and confirming the specific elements of the game they needed to brush up on. He calmly watched Sora lower his arms then glanced away, looking down at the floor between them.

“Look, I just wanted to say sorry…about last night.”

Sora blinked; positively dumbfounded. Vanitas shifted awkwardly and looked him straight in the eyes.

“It was stupid of me to get so worked up, and at the end of the day you’re still my brother…so if you really wanna do skating over hockey, then I’m okay with that.”

“R-Really?” Sora spluttered. Never in a million years had he imagined Vanitas would turn around and apologise like this.

Vanitas flashed him a crooked smile. “Yeah…so let’s play a good game today, alright?” He reached forwards and ruffled Sora’s hair; Sora only flinching minutely at his brother’s sudden proximity, but still smiling all the same.

He couldn’t believe how relieved he felt. Maybe…he had been overreacting just a little bit, too. Vanitas was his _big brother_ – of course he would never seriously go out of his way to hurt him. What the hell had he been _thinking?_

He nodded, his wide grin once more at home on his face. “Yeah, okay. Thanks Van…that means a lot.”

Vanitas just smiled and started walking away from him, out towards the entrance to the rink. “Come on, don’t get all _sappy_ on me – get your head in the game. I want to see you kicking ass out there.”

“Definitely!” Sora laughed, grabbing up his helmet and gloves too, before hurrying to follow.

-0-

“Now, guys, I want a nice, clean game today, ya? Go easy on yur mates – look out for each other.”

Sora nodded and kept his focus on the centre of the rink, already having taken up his position in the left wing. He had his hockey stick ready, poised over the sleek surface of the ice. They had just finished an hour of drills and were now all set for a practice match; their coach, Wakka giving them a last minute pep-talk.

Sora was still feeling good, and fairly raring to hold his own against the more experienced, senior team. Vanitas often watched him play, but today was definitely different, with both brothers in the same game, _and_ on opposing sides. His natural competitiveness coming into play, Sora almost felt like he had something to prove, now that he knew Vanitas was more accepting of his interests in practicing figure skating. More than ever before, he wanted to show his brother he wasn’t a weakling, or unworthy of his support.

There almost seemed to be this… _odd_ feeling of anticipation in the air, and Sora just couldn’t quite put his finger on where it was coming from, or why. His eyes flickered over to Vanitas standing in the right wing defence, who also appeared more than ready to begin the match. He didn’t even glance in Sora’s direction as they all observed the two centre players shaking hands and getting into position.

The horn sounded and there was an instant blur of clacking blades, the puck zipping and whizzing frantically over the ice. Sora constantly followed its wild trajectory, solely focussed on winning this game in his team’s favour. With the difference between the two team’s ages, he supposed he wasn’t the only one with something to prove.

The first half of the game went well, with Sora successfully shooting a perfect snap shot straight into the goal; Donald quickly following with another one, minutes later, winning them an easy second. Now, they were just behind on one, the older boys having won three goals to their two.

It was only after their 15-minute break that Sora started to feel like something wasn’t quite right. Initially, he had noticed Vanitas subtly watching him, almost as soon as the match had started, and he hadn’t really thought much of it, but now, Vanitas seemed _too_ focused on him – his golden eyes were following his movements around the rink constantly.

Sora fought it as best as he could, but he was definitely starting to feel uneasy.

It was almost like…something was going to happen.

Five more minutes into the game and Sora had his answer.

Donald had the puck in his possession, skating swiftly and swerving with practiced ease around the larger players as he used his small stature to his advantage. What happened next...Sora had only seen in professional games, and it was without a doubt _completely illegal._ Just as Donald moved to take his shot, the defenceman on the left wing, bodily slammed into him from the front – Donald instantly thrown off his feet and smashed hard into the unforgiving surface of the ice.

A sharp whistle sounded immediately. “Hold up, time out – time out!” Wakka called, skating out onto the ice. Sora was already there, too, helping Donald back onto his feet. Seeing that Donald had managed to stand, Wakka skated over to the player who had executed the check. “Pete, man, that was way too hard, ya? I don’t _ever_ want ta see dat again!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Pete chortled, not even trying to hide how unapologetic he was. He lazily skated back into his position, smirking over at Donald who was still being supported by Sora.    

“I’m okay, Sora. Just get me back into position,” Donald wheezed, still sounding like he was in pain.

“Are you sure? Don’t push yourself if you’re hurt!” Sora slowly guided them back over to Donald’s starting position; the rest of their teammates nervously circling. They were obviously worried for Donald’s wellbeing. Sure, this was a brutal sport, but no one ever played so rough – especially not in practice games.

“Donald, do ya want to sit out for ten?” Wakka called, skating over towards them and landing a big hand onto one of Donald’s shoulders.

Donald just smiled, and held his hockey stick more firmly between his gloved hands. “Never been better, Coach. I’ll keep playing.”

With one last check, Wakka left the ice and the players got ready to recommence the game.   

Sure that Donald would be okay, Sora returned to his own position, and got into his offensive stance. Gripping his hockey stick tight, Sora glared daggers across at the boy who had so blatantly tried to injure his friend. Pete just grinned at him, his entire demeanour outwardly menacing.

Pete was bigger than any other player on the two teams combined, and where most of the other boys were fit, but more on the slim side, Pete was just all brawn and muscle. He was a formidable force to be reckoned with, and as a defenceman he was well known for the ferociousness of his game-play. He also happened to be very good friends with Vanitas…

Forgetting Pete’s arrogant expression for the moment, Sora’s eyes flickered over to the other side of the rink to where Vanitas was standing in position. His heart skipped a beat and thudded painfully as their eyes locked, and there was that unsettling feeling again.

Something was _very wrong._

The horn blasted and the game was on again, Sora roughly shaking his head and hurrying to focus – to get his mind back on offence. Within minutes he had possession, concentrating hard on keeping the upper hand as he weaved and whirled his way down to the goal. He didn’t know where Pete was, and suddenly felt anxious to know of his brother’s position, too, as he neatly lined up the shot.

The game was nearly over, so surely…everything would be okay.

An opposing player fumbled into him, trying to reclaim the puck, but Sora easily got around him. This was _it_ – he was going to score. Locking his muscles, Sora tensed and grit his teeth hard, his hockey stick swinging, shoulders and elbows rotating as the ice flew underneath him.

The puck was off, sailing across the ice, and –

BAM.

Without warning, Sora was hit with such force from behind, the guard on his slightly-too-big helmet was flung backwards and smashed him right in the teeth. He choked and cried out, his body slamming into the boards at full speed as he tried to brace himself with no time to stop. It was all a sharp blur – the immense weight behind driving him violently into the hard wall, then pain – _pain everywhere_ – stars and galaxies exploding in front of his eyes. There was a cold slash across the back of his left leg, the distinctive feel of the metal blade of someone’s skate, slicing through fabric and flesh.

Sora was opening and closing his eyes, lights flickering and shimmering, everything moving in and out of focus. He thought he could hear someone calling his name but all sound was distorted, as if he was underwater. He tried to swallow – tasted blood in his mouth.

“… _ora…!”_

_“S…or…a!”_

_“Sora!”_

Sora dragged in a deep breath and peeled open his eyes.

_“_ You’re going to be okay, Sora, just keep still; we’ve got the medic coming to check you over.”

Sore slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. He idly noticed someone had removed his hockey gloves.

“Goofy…what happened...?”

Goofy rubbed at his back, steadying him and keeping him sitting upright. “You were checked while making a shot. You fell into the boards.”

Slowly…things were beginning to filter back. Yes, he’d been lining up his shot when…someone had checked him and he’d fallen…?

No.

He’d been _slammed_ – smashed into the side of the rink and then his leg…the back of his leg had been sliced open.

“My…my leg?”

“You’ve got a cut along your calf muscle, but I’ve stopped it from bleeding – just, just breathe slowly, Sor – the medic’s nearly here.”

Sora opened his eyes again, even though he didn’t quite remember closing them and stared down at his splayed legs. He was sitting on the ice and someone had placed a blanket underneath him, and sure enough, there was a bunched towel pressed against the back of his left leg. More sensation was coming back to him now and his head was starting to clear. But now, along with his improving clarity, also came the awareness of how much pain he was in. His head was throbbing, and so was his upper body – but the pain in his leg was by far the worst.

“Who…?” He murmured, already half knowing, but needing to hear it.

There was a pause, then, “Pete did it.”

Sora dazedly looked up and around at the rink, noticing all of the other players standing off to the sides, waiting anxiously. Pete was a hard guy to miss, but Sora wasn’t looking for him.

Instead, his eyes instinctively searched out Vanitas.

His brother was standing on his own, leaning against the boards off to the far right of where Sora was sitting. Their eyes met and Sora’s worst fears were confirmed.

Pete hadn’t done this.

It was _all_ on Vanitas.

He had pretended to apologise, pretended he’d wanted to make amends, all to make sure Sora would lower his guard on the ice. Hockey was the perfect cover, not to mention more of an opportunity to hurt Sora’s friends, too – and not _only_ had he _used_ Pete to cover up his intentions, but he hadn’t just planned on having Sora injured – _oh, no_.

Sora wasn’t a fool – he knew the slash to the back of his leg wasn’t an accident. Just a couple more inches down and Pete would have cut straight through his Achilles’ tendon. If he had sustained an injury as severe as that, he would have _never_ excelled at figure skating.

His dream becoming a reality would be forever out of reach.

Ignoring Goofy, who tried to keep him sitting down, Sora struggled to his feet and got his skates back under him. He stood there for a brief moment, just swaying in place and gathering his bearings. His hands clenched into fists. Sudden anger coursed through him – white and hot, and consuming all else. He didn’t even try to fight it – could no longer hear Goofy and Donald pleading with him to sit back down, or the constant throb of his leg. All he could see was Vanitas, staring at him from the other side of the rink, and all rational thought was instantly lost.

Sora knew he was screaming – an almost inhuman sound grating up and out of his throat – roaring past his bloodied lips. He was skating fast, moving in a near blur, and then for one split second before he reached him, Sora saw Vanitas’ challenging grin and nothing else mattered anymore.

He wanted to punch that smirk right off his brother’s face.

He wasn’t sure how many hits he managed to land, but the next thing Sora knew, they were rolling across the ice, a tangle of twisted limbs and hard elbows and knees. He took two successive smacks to the face and felt one of his front teeth come loose, and the socket of his right eye sharply ached, before someone was roughly wreathing him away from behind.

Sora was more than sure he’d never been so furious in all of his life. _How,_ could Vanitas do this to him? How did he think that what he had done was _okay?_

Sora wasn’t sure who had him around the arms, but another two of Vanitas’ teammates had also pulled him backwards. Sora was immediately satisfied to see a small trickle of blood sliding down his brother’s chin, but Vanitas was still grinning; an almost manic gleam to his eyes.

“You’re rubbish, Sora! You’re never gonna amount to anything!”

Vanitas’ words stung at him like a slap to the face.

“ _Shut up!”_

Vanitas just laughed, even as the two other boys holding him began attempting to drag him away.

“Worthless, _pathetic_ Sora. You gonna cry now? You little _girl?_ ”

Sora grit his teeth and let the person restraining him pull him over to the other side of the rink. He couldn’t think anymore.

He struggled and twisted himself free, his body all but moving on its own. 

He had to get away.

-0-

Sora couldn't remember how he’d gotten there, but one minute, Vanitas and he were being pulled off of each other and then the next he was here – sitting on his own on the bank of the large pond on the far side of town.

He looked down.

He knew he must have removed his hockey skates at some point, but he'd even managed to retrieve his figure skates from the locker room and put them on his feet instead, and he couldn't remember ever doing that, either. Maybe it was the shock of having someone he trusted wilfully try to injure him or perhaps it was the suffocating grief he was currently experiencing, but Sora ended up just sitting there for a long time, staring out blankly over the ice; the cold seeping deep into his bones. 

The calf of his leg where Pete’s skate had cut him was throbbing along with his heartbeat, but in the cold as he was, Sora couldn’t really tell if it was still bleeding or not. He was yet to even look at it, and had absolutely no idea how deep it was. He idly hoped it didn’t need stitches, but right now, he felt sort of oddly detached…as if his mind wasn’t really _there._

He knew there was probably blood now frozen on his face from his split eyebrow and busted lip, but none of that seemed to matter so much anymore.

Because, nothing could compare to the pain he was feeling in his heart. 

“…I'm not rubbish…” He murmured to himself, still staring out over the frozen pond. “…I'm not.”

He frowned down at his skates sadly, clenching his arms hard around his knees.

“I…I _am_ good at this, I – I’m not worthless!”  

Bracing himself and working through the cold and stiffness of his joints, Sora slowly pushed himself to his feet. By the time he was standing again, his breathing was laboured from the effort; the immense pain he felt in his leg and face sapping him of his strength. He squared his shoulders and began attempting to move anyway. 

Half sliding down the steep bank of the pond, Sora teetered briefly before stepping out onto the ice.

“I am _not_ pathetic!” He shouted to the trees, urging his feet to start moving. He rapidly gained momentum, gliding and flying over the ice with more confidence and strength.

Although it was good that his body was warming up to a more stable temperature, his injured leg was near agonising now, and his face stung unpleasantly in the frigid winter breeze.

He ignored it all and told himself he didn’t care. He just wanted to skate, and he wanted to be _the best_.  

Sora began skating more furiously, letting more of his instinct and muscle memory take over. He was being reckless, taking risks – flying up into double toe loops, and clumsy double lutz, before all but falling into wild, dizzying spins. He wanted to push himself more, because Vanitas was _wrong_ , and he _could_ do this _–_ he wasn’t rubbish – _he wasn’t!_

Steeling himself, Sora gathered speed on his back outside edge before swiftly stepping forward with his other foot and effortlessly vaulted himself up into the air. He pulled his free leg in close and threw himself into the revolutions, enjoying how weightless his tired body felt for that brief, split second before he had to come back down. He tried to move into the landing properly, but his leg gave an exceptionally painful throb, and his foot slid out from underneath him, skidding across the ice. He fell sharply, landing hard on his tailbone, his bare hands pressed flat against the freezing surface of the pond.  

Quickly lifting his hands, Sora rubbed some feeling back into the tips of his fingers and shakily pulled himself back to standing. He tried executing the triple axel again, only to fall harder this time, landing awkwardly on his hip. Why did everything have to hurt so much?

He didn’t want to give up.

Again and again, he vaulted himself up into a triple axel, and every time he fell. The last attempt was finally too much as he crashed hard against the ice, and just lay there in defeat.  

Everything was hurting, and he was so _awfully_ cold _;_ the slushed ice that he had created with his skates melting underneath him, dampening and freezing his clothes.

Forcing himself up into a hunched sitting position, Sora tried desperately to keep it together, but it was pointless. He slammed a fist against the ice as his eyes filled with tears.

“I _can_ do it…” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could.

“…I can…”


	5. Soars into the Sky

Feeling as lost and hopeless as he was, Sora sat hunched on the cold, hard ice, and completely failed to notice that someone had been watching him the entire time.

He often came to this frozen pond in the winter, fondly considering it his own private place to skate, but always, when he practiced here, he _never_ ventured near the south side, where the old, dilapidated house sat close to the edge of the ice, right up against the bank.

The house didn't scare him, but it _was_ creepy, and now, in his highly distracted state, he didn't realise he was currently sitting right in front of it; the looming, ancient structure holding up the sky behind him.

As he sat there, curled in on himself, frozen stiff and feeling miserable, two, simple words kept repeating themselves over, and over, inside of his head.

' _Cold',_ and ' _Home'._

Both were screaming for priority as his body temperature started to drop dangerously low, and his entire frame began to shake.

It was _so very cold,_ and he _knew_ he couldn't stay here, but…he didn't want to go home.

Vanitas would be there.

He wrapped his arms around himself tighter, burying his head behind his knees. The cut on his leg, and the bruises and cuts on his face were no longer throbbing in time with his heartbeat, but he wasn't so sure if that was actually a good thing. He felt oddly sleepy, and wondered if he might have sustained a concussion when Pete had rammed him into the boards...or maybe when Vanitas had decked him across the face…

He wasn't sure on how to tell. He'd never had one before. Perhaps he should have felt more worried about it, but right at this moment, it was incredibly hard to find the energy to care.

Still thoroughly disorientated, Sora didn't immediately make sense of it, when he heard someone clear their throat from behind him. He didn't move, but instinctively, his whole body went still.

"Excuse me. Young man."

Sora slowly opened his eyes, peering blearily down at the dark fabric of his pants. His joints stiff, and still half-wondering if he was hearing things, Sora wearily raised his head.

"I think it would be in your best interest, to get out of this cold."

Sora blinked and turned, staring hard over his right shoulder.

There was a man standing quietly behind him – not on top of the sloping bank of the pond like Sora had half expected, but actually down on the slippery surface of the ice, over near the tree line.

Sora slowly shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows hard, honestly thinking he might be hallucinating – the man's choice of winter attire noticeably more on the strange side.

He was tall, dressed in a long black robe with a dark red cloak draped around his shoulders, and that wasn't even the weirdest part. Covering his entire face, save for his eyes and mouth, was a dark red balaclava.

"Young man, you need to get warm immediately. You are at risk of developing hypothermia."

Sora all but gawked at the oddly dressed man, just watching his mouth move and not really processing his words. Slowly, his eyes sluggishly travelled over the man's shoulder and up the frozen bank, eventually settling on the old, weathered house looming over them.

The house's front door was hanging open.

Finally putting two and two together, Sora realised who this man must be. Never in a million years would he have thought the old house was actually being _lived in_ – but _that_ wasn't even the real issue here – he was _trespassing on private property!_

Crying out in a panic, Sora threw himself away from the man, scrambling backwards over the ice.

"I-I'm sorry, mister! Please don't shoot me!"

Losing traction on the slick surface, one of Sora's hands promptly slipped out from under him, sending him crashing down hard into his right shoulder. He lay on his back, instantly stunned. Groaning quietly, Sora tried curling in on himself, his entire body trembling and aching.

_God,_ he was _freezing!_

Wearily, he cracked his eyes open again, only to find the strange man now standing over him.

"Remain calm. I only wish to help you."

Sora shied away, but the man paid him no mind. He reached down and carefully tucked his hands under Sora's arms before effortlessly hauling him to his feet.

"There. Now. Come with me out of this cold. I promise I mean you no harm."

"B…But the sign…" Sora murmured, still feeling faintly mortified.

The man had already moved a few paces away from him, but at Sora's hesitant words, he turned back to face him and chuckled quietly.

"I wouldn't worry about that. It deters the right people."

Without another word, he started walking back over the ice towards the old house. Sora paused for just a moment longer before warily following, half-skating, half-hobbling, feeling his joints creak in protest with every shaky step. His teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and his bare hands were going numb.

As he reached the steep bank of the pond, the man wordlessly offered him a hand, and Sora didn't even hesitate in taking it. He wasn't sure if he was being too trusting here or not, but he was tired and cold, and his body felt like it'd been hit by a freight train. Warmth sounded nice, and he was sick of sitting out here feeling sorry for himself.

The man's gloved hand was strong and sure, easily helping him up and off the ice. Once he was certain Sora had found his balance, the man instantly released him, and continued up along the bank. Confident Sora was still following, he swiftly marched up the small set of stairs of the house's wooden veranda.

"I could not help but notice that you are not in high spirits today. Your skating was definitely not up to your usual standard."

Treading carefully, with his skates sinking in to the soft earth as he went, Sora paused just off the veranda, frowning in confusion once more. "…You've seen me skate?"

The man was now patiently waiting for him, holding the door to the house open, his lips lifted up into a kind smile. "Certainly. I have enjoyed seeing you improve over the last four years, since you first started practicing here."

Seeing the obvious surprise on Sora's face, the man continued, still beckoning him inside. "You should not be so surprised. The sign on my front gate is up for a reason. I was aware of your presence from the very first instance."

Urging his trembling legs to begin moving again, Sora pulled himself up the rickety, wooden stairs and onto the veranda. Caught off guard by the man's startling revelation, he couldn't help but feel more than a little guilty. He'd been skating here, and blatantly trespassing on this man's property ever since he was nine, and for all this time he'd been unknowingly at the other's mercy.

"I'm sorry – for coming here and disturbing you. I thought the house was empty, but that's not really a good excuse..." Sora looked away, shamefaced. He couldn't bring himself to meet the man's eyes.

"Ah, but the house _is_ empty."

Becoming more confused by the minute, Sora looked back over at the man, but he still didn't move to step inside. "Wh…What do you mean? You live somewhere else?"

The man just offered him another mysterious smile. "Not quite. Please, come inside. I am happy to speak with you, but your lips are an unhealthy shade of blue. I would much rather continue this somewhere you can be warm."

Liking the sound of that immensely, Sora feebly nodded his head, and finally moved past the man, wobbling through the open doorway. He knew what his mother would say about this – willingly going along with a perfect stranger and entering their home, but Sora had always been sure of his ability to read a person's character. His instincts were telling him that this was someone he could trust.

Sora heard the door close behind him and just _stared_ in disbelief around the room he'd stepped into _._

The house…was empty. Not so much as a single piece of furniture in sight.

Maybe, he was a terrible judge of character, after all. Why would the man insist on bringing him in here, when it was just as cold and bleak as the outside?

His senses still sluggish, and his earlier panic starting to creep back in, Sora turned back to the door behind him, intent on leaving as quickly as possible; but the man was speaking again, having already walked over to the far side of the room.

"Over here."

His hand reaching for the door handle, Sora paused and looked, his uneasiness increasing tenfold.

Had he just…stepped into a horror movie, or something?

The man had wreathed open what looked to be a concealed trap door in the bare, wooden floor, and was now holding it open for Sora – as if it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world.

Sora shuffled backwards, his ankles shaking in his skates from the strain of keeping him on his feet. Ominously, the cut on the back of his leg started throbbing again.

Noticing Sora's obvious apprehension, the man was quick to reassure him. "I know this may seem odd to you, but my home is actually underneath. You have no reason to trust me, and I understand that, but I give you my word, that I mean you no harm."

Sora could only keep staring. Was this really even _happening?_ Maybe, he was actually still outside, passed out on the ice…or perhaps, this was one of those, 'Choose Your Own Adventure' novels…

Still holding the trap door open, the man gestured to Sora, his tone of voice sincere. "…I can see that you are quite badly injured, and I wanted to help. But I will not insist, if you are uncomfortable. I can call someone for you, if you would like?"

Sora still didn't move, but he suddenly felt overwhelmingly rude for being so wary in the face of this man's kindness – and _that,_ in itself, was a ludicrous thought. This wasn't exactly a normal situation to be in.

"What's your name?" He asked, instead, curling his arms back around himself. His leg gave an exceptionally painful throb, but he studiously chose to ignore it as he waited for the man's answer.

They stared at each other for a moment longer before the man wordlessly reached up and pulled the balaclava from his head. Long blond hair tumbled out around his shoulders; the absence of the balaclava also revealing a neatly kept Van Dyke beard. His face was aged and lined, but not overly so, and his amber eyes shined with quiet intelligence.

"My name is Ansem. I am pleased to meet you, after all this time. You will have to forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. I…am not terribly fond of social interaction."

"…Ansem…" Sora repeated, absently nodding his head. Now that Ansem had removed his balaclava and offered Sora his name, he really didn't seem so strange anymore. Sora felt a little more at ease, but he still wasn't convinced about accompanying him downstairs…

Murderers could still have nice smiles.

"And what is your name, might I ask?"

Snapping out of his light daze, Sora hurried to answer. "Oh! It's Sora."

Ansem smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Ah, that is a wonderful name. It suits your disposition well."

Accepting of Sora's reluctance to accompany him, Ansem swiftly stepped down onto the concealed steps of the stairs, half of his body disappearing beneath the floor. He turned back to Sora.

"I can see that I have made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention, and for that, I apologise. If you would like to wait here, you are free to do so. I will procure you a blanket, and some of my first aid provisions."

Without another word, Ansem began his slow descent down the stairs, the trap door still propped open on its hinges. Sora was too far away to see how far down he was travelling, but he could easily hear Ansem's footsteps steadily growing fainter.

Now feeling as impolite as ever, and still stiff and sore from the cold, Sora wrapped his arms more firmly around himself, and slowly teetered his way over towards the trap door. He peered down inside, not entirely sure what he was expecting to see, but all it was, was a narrow set of wooden stairs leading down to what could easily be the house's basement. There was warm light just visible from underneath another wooden door at the bottom, and Sora could faintly hear the sounds of Ansem moving around inside.

Sora's thin frame trembled more, as his skin felt the first waves of inviting heat that were rolling lazily up the stairs towards him. He really didn't want to stay up here, in the cold and dark of the empty house.

Perhaps he was being foolish in taking a chance like this, but there was just something about Ansem that made Sora feel comforted. He sharply realised that he had never been spoken to, like a real adult before, and not once had Ansem talked down to him like a silly, little child. He'd never known any of his grandparents, so maybe…the way Ansem was treating him, was what it was like to have a grandfather…

Steadying himself and lamenting the poor blades of his skates, Sora stepped down onto the first step, right when Ansem reappeared at the base of the stairs. He was carrying a warm looking, grey blanket under one of his arms, a small, green, first aid kit held in his other hand. Noticing Sora on the stairs straight away, his eyebrows lifted in honest surprise.

"Oh, I see you have changed your mind. Do you need my assistance?"

"Um, no, that's okay. I've got this." Sora tentatively started hobbling his way down the stairs, his hands sliding along the banisters on each side, just in case. It would probably make more sense to take his skates off his feet, but they were oddly acting as a kind of security blanket for him at the moment. He almost felt like, if he were to take them off, it would be a betrayal of some kind – like he was admitting defeat, and right now – that was the last thing he wanted.

Ansem still hovered at the foot of the stairs, watching him carefully. He had placed the folded blanket and the first aid kit down on the floor at his feet, ready to catch Sora if he suddenly lost his balance.

Finally making his way down the flight of stairs, Ansem moved to let Sora inside, immediately busying himself with finding somewhere for him to sit.

Sora stopped and leaned wearily against the door frame, his eyelids fluttering closed. He sighed quietly and sagged into the warmth now curling around him. The heat inside of the room beyond was simply wonderful, the aches in his body already beginning to ease.

Convinced he'd made the right decision in trusting Ansem, Sora slowly opened his eyes to take in the large room he was now standing in. Breathing in sharply, his mouth fell open in sheer wonder.

There were books upon books strewn everywhere – stacked and piled all over the place, as far as Sora could see. Loose bits of notebook paper littered the floor like fallen snow, some scrunched up into tight, little balls, as well as many scattered all over a number of different sized desks and work benches. There were diagrams and complicated mathematical procedures tacked up on every available inch of wall – even a few portable whiteboards choked with more formula and numbers, too. Amongst all the books and mind-boggling science theory, there were several, strange metal contraptions whirring and clicking, one close by even belching out a small plume of steam, right when Sora turned to look at it.

The room was abuzz with a strange, quiet energy, and it was all quite simply amazing. Sora was in awe. When he'd dragged himself out of bed this morning, he would never have guessed that this was where he was going to end up – standing in what appeared to be a bizarre laboratory of some sort. He was all but convinced he really had stepped into some crazy work of fiction.

"I do apologise for the rather unaccommodating aspect of my home. I…enjoy my privacy here. I rarely entertain guests."

Ansem was in the process of removing several large books and notepads, as well as what appeared to be some odd bits of metal piping, from a rather solid looking, wooden chair. Once he had freed it of its clutter, Ansem carried it over to where Sora was leaning, retrieving a small, red pillow from underneath a messy stack of papers along the way. He placed the chair down in front of Sora with the pillow on top, before inviting him to take a seat.

"Please, sit down. I will tend to your injuries."

Shifting awkwardly in place, Sora felt even more like he was intruding here. Ansem was obviously quite a busy person, and yet, here he was being so eager to go out of his way.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, you really don't need to do this..." He mumbled, hobbling over towards the chair and gracelessly falling into it. He all but melted into the rigid back of the chair and the comfy red pillow beneath him, so relieved to finally find some semblance of comfort and rest.

"It is quite all right," Ansem answered, unfolding the grey blanket and placing it snug around Sora's shoulders. Sora nodded his thanks, and pulled the blanket more closely around himself. "I may enjoy my time alone here, but that does not mean I am without a heart. You are clearly not well. I could not continue watching you skate, without offering my assistance."

As he spoke, Ansem busied himself closing the door to his home-cum-laboratory, and then quickly began shifting things around over by a small kitchenette. Sora noticed it was also cluttered with several large stacks of books, as well as a messy assortment of glass beakers, and some mysteriously blue-stained test tubes.

Content to just rest and wait, Sora snuggled further into his blanket, and shifted his aching leg into a more outward, extended position. He wriggled his toes in his skates and wondered if he was being inconsiderate to Ansem in keeping them on. He hadn't even thought to look for his skate guards or his backpack down by the pond – so intent was he, on just getting out of the cold.

Now that he could more clearly think back on it, Sora barely had any recollection of how he had come to be here. Whether or not he'd actually brought any of his belongings with him from the rink was still a mystery. He would have to search the pond's banks, just to be sure…when he finally mustered up the courage to return home...

All of his earlier worries were quick to resurface then, and Sora instantly remembered exactly how, and _why_ he was currently in this sorry mess – disorientated and in pain, and accepting help from a total stranger.

Sora hunched his shoulders and sagged in his seat, staring miserably down at the floor. He blinked slowly, a slight twinge in his right eye causing him to flinch. It was half swollen shut now, and throbbed uncomfortably, as if his sluggish heartbeat was actually beating right out of his face.

Sora licked absently at the split in his bottom lip, feeling like his smile was well and truly broken. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even force it into place.

His eyes slid over to a single piece of paper that was lying on the floor beside one of his skates. It was covered in near illegible writing, as well as a few intricate, mathematical diagrams. Whatever information it was trying to convey, it all seemed extraordinarily complex, and Sora idly wondered what Ansem was actually trying to achieve down here.

A ridiculous thought occurred to him then, of maybe staying here with Ansem, instead of returning home. Perhaps…he could be Ansem's lab assistant, and help him with his research, and then in his spare time he could just go out and skate on the pond…

Breathing out a long, wistful sigh, Sora tilted his head to press his cheek awkwardly against his shoulder. He knew it was a preposterous idea, but it sure sounded nice.

"Here. This will help warm you."

Sora looked up, just as Ansem gently pressed a steaming mug into his hands. Sora gladly accepted it, wrapping his fingers firmly around the wonderfully warm ceramic.

"Thank you."

Whatever the warm liquid was inside the mug, it was intensely aromatic. Intrigued, Sora lifted the mug up to his nose, and breathed in the sharp, spicy scent of the heated drink. It was an oddly familiar scent, but still like nothing he had ever smelled before.

"...What is it?" Sora asked, even as he carefully tilted the mug to his lips, taking a small sip. The spicy, yet strangely sweet flavour of ginger flooded his mouth. He felt the drink's warmth slide smoothly over his tongue and down, settling pleasantly in his stomach. It was delicious; like someone had just given him a bear hug from the inside.

"It is green ginger wine. An excellent remedy for colds and illness." Catching the panicked expression on Sora's face, Ansem quickly held up one of his hands, quietly calming him. "Do not fear. It has a very low alcohol content. You would have to drink more than the entire bottle to even experience a minimal level of intoxication."

Reassured that he wasn't going to be returning home drunk, Sora happily took another sip, enjoying the way it made the inside of his mouth feel all tingly and warm. Despite his leg and face still paining him, he was already feeling a lot better.

Ansem quickly retrieved his first aid kit from beside the front door, and brought over another chair to where Sora was sitting quietly, still contentedly sipping at his drink. Straightening his robes, Ansem settled himself almost regally, as if the basic, wooden chair was actually an opulent throne. Still smiling, he lifted the mug from out of Sora's grasp, and placed it out of the way, on a nearby table.

"I see you are wearing an ice hockey jersey. Is that how you came to have these injuries? Or are you perhaps, in some kind of trouble?"

Sora didn't protest as Ansem reached forward again and lightly grasped his chin. He gently tilted Sora's head from side to side, carefully inspecting his busted lip and split eyebrow.

Pursing his lips slightly, Sora was reluctant to answer. "No…nothing like that. Just hockey."

Sora could appreciate Ansem trying to help, but he wasn't so sure he wanted to talk about it just yet.

Feeling slightly self-conscious under Ansem's close scrutiny, Sora restlessly shifted his injured leg, and flinched at the pain suddenly lancing up his thigh. Noticing Sora's distress, Ansem relinquished his hold instantly, his brows furrowing in concern.

"I apologise, if I caused you pain, just then."

Sora shook his head, offering Ansem a tired smile. "No, don't worry, you didn't hurt me. It's just my leg."

Suddenly feeling nervous, Sora looked away and took a deep breath. "I got cut...on the back of my leg...by a skate blade. Could you...have a look at it for me?"

"Of course I can." Ansem smiled in return, undoing the clasps on his first aid kit.

Still clenching the blanket around himself, Sora slowly turned his body and legs to the side, bringing his left leg closer to Ansem. Sora could just see the ripped fabric of his pants, and the dark blotches of stained blood, but he couldn't see the cut itself. It was simply too painful for him twist his body that way.

Ansem leaned forward, his eyes drawn to the carnage on the underside of Sora's leg. He frowned; his mouth drawing into a hard, thin line.

"This...looks serious."

Still frowning, Ansem shifted his attention to the first aid kit sitting in his lap, and retrieved a small pair of metal scissors. He looked up into Sora's eyes; his expression grim.

"I am going to have to remove the bottom portion of your pants. Is that okay?"

Feeling more than a little worried now, about the overall condition of his leg, Sora nodded wordlessly and tried to keep still. Shifting closer, Ansem set to work carefully cutting off Sora's slashed pants from the knee down.

"This will sting," Ansem murmured next, having removed the torn fabric, and already dabbing some disinfectant onto a strip of cotton wool. Taking as much care as possible, he ran the damp cotton wool over the back of Sora's leg. Sora hissed and tensed as the disinfectant came into contact with the large cut across his calf, but he still managed to keep from moving, clenching his teeth hard as Ansem methodically cleaned the wound.

"Now that I can see it more clearly, the cut is not so deep as to cause you concern in the long term, but if you do not get stitches, it will scar," Ansem told him, sitting upright and depositing the soiled cotton wool into a small plastic bag. Working quickly, he pulled out a thick roll of medical bandage, and a large, adhesive dressing.

"Fortunately, it is no longer bleeding as badly as it was. I will bandage it for you now, until you are able to find more professional medical assistance than what I can offer you here."

Feeling starkly relieved to know the cut wasn't actually as bad as he thought it would be, Sora gave Ansem his best smile yet. "Thank you...for being so kind to me."

Ansem smiled, too, but still managed to look solemn. He held Sora's gaze, his tone of voice quiet, but earnest.

"Sora. You are always welcome here. I am not always able to see you skate, but when I can, it is a joy that warms my very soul. You have marvellous talent. Do not lose hope."

Caught by the intensity in Ansem's eyes, it was only then that Sora realised Ansem had probably heard him while he was out on the pond. His panicked conviction, borne of his distress, would have carried easily over the bare surface of the ice.

Breaking their eye contact, Sora blinked rapidly and looked away, wringing his hands in his lap. He didn't know what to say.

Never, in all his life, had Sora felt so unsure of himself as he did right then. It was all very nice of Ansem to try and make him feel better, but…he didn't know the full story.

Had he ever had a brother wilfully try and permanently injure him?

Ansem silently leaned forward and deftly pressed the adhesive dressing into place over the cut, Sora shifting for him as much as he could without jostling his leg too much.

It seemed now that the adrenaline from skating had left him, and his body had warmed up to a more normal temperature, his entire leg no longer wanted to cooperate. The pain was deep, and Sora felt foolish for continuing to put so much strain on it. With the way it was feeling now, he didn't think he'd be able to skate for a week or so, at least...but really, that wasn't even the _real_ problem here…

Ansem had now begun winding the medical bandage around Sora's leg, starting behind his knee, and firmly pulling it into place. The added pressure felt nice, and Sora inwardly sighed as the throbbing started to ease.

His tongue darting over the split in his lip again, Sora opened his mouth to speak, only to have his voice catch in his throat. Vanitas' toxic words burned through his mind like a shard of kryptonite to Superman – sharp and deadly, choking his resolve.

A whirring metal contraption to the left of them suddenly chose that moment to noisily belch out a large cloud of bright, blue steam, and Sora jumped in his seat. He turned and eyed the machine curiously as steam curled and danced through the air minutely, before dissipating altogether. The faint smell of lilies lingered, and Sora found himself wondering all over again, what exactly it was, that Ansem was researching. He was afraid to ask; it looked way too complicated.

Focussing once more, Sora reached for his mug of ginger wine and glugged a large mouthful. It was still nice and warm, and the sharpness of the ginger was invigorating.

Clenching his hands hard around the mug resting in his lap, Sora stared down into it and haltingly tried again.

"My...My brother...he..."

Ansem glanced up at him while still bandaging, and Sora couldn't help but lose his nerve. Just thinking about Vanitas was like a punch to the guts. He coughed, and swallowed roughly around the sudden lump in his throat, feeling hopeless all over again.

"…All I want to do is skate...and what's so wrong with that? Who am I hurting if I just want to skate. But I…I guess it doesn't matter so much anymore. I don't think I'm very good..."

At Sora's words, Ansem's hands stilled instantly. He sat up straight, his expression fierce.

"Let go of your fear, and do not concern yourself with what others say to you. For all my intelligence and years of experience, I could never skate as well as you do. I am more than certain, that you will succeed."

Sora wasn't so easily convinced, but deep down inside of himself, a light blinked back into existence.

"…Really? …You really think so?"

Having secured the last of the bandage, Ansem braced his hands against his own knees and smiled encouragingly at Sora. He nodded once, offering Sora the support he was so desperately in need of.

"Yes. Do not lose faith in yourself, or in your abilities. Your skating is beautiful, and it would upset me greatly, to know that you were no longer practicing."

Realising that Ansem was done, Sora gently placed some weight onto his left leg, and felt near overjoyed to find the pain all but gone. It still ached slightly, and his face was still a mess, but with his leg on the mend, coupled with Ansem's kind reassurance, Sora was nearly feeling like himself again.

"Thanks, Ansem. Thanks for patching me up, too." He really meant it, and he hoped that Ansem could hear the sincerity in his words.

His features more relaxed now that Sora didn't seem so disheartened with himself, Ansem began sifting through the rest of the medical supplies in the first aid kit, most likely searching for more adhesive dressing to use on Sora's face.

"Who is teaching you to skate? Surely they can appreciate how well you have advanced over the years," Ansem remarked, dabbing more disinfectant onto some fresh cotton wool.

Sora could only shrug. "I just…learn from another skater down at the rink. She's really, very nice, and she encourages me a lot. Someday…I'd like to be good enough to compete like her, too."

Forgetting his newfound enthusiasm for the moment, Sora braced himself as Ansem began cleaning up the dried blood around his right eye and eyebrow. It stung a little, but not overly so, which Sora was glad for. It was such a huge relief to finally have everything stop hurting so much.

Ansem focussed on tending to the split in Sora's eyebrow and hummed quietly; a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I…would like to see you compete, too. For someone who has had no professional training, you certainly have promising skill." He smiled at Sora and ripped open the packaging to another adhesive dressing.

"It just so happens, that I have an old friend who might be able to help you..."

Unmindful of tearing his lip back open, Sora positively beamed.

-0-

Sora limped his way through the front door of his home and immediately started hobbling in the direction of the kitchen. He glanced into the living room along the way and took note of Vanitas sprawled casually over one of the lounges, his feet resting up on the cushions. Despite his lingering apprehension about his brother's actions, Sora wasn't overly concerned about that right now.

There was something more important he had to do.

Ansem had patched up his injuries as best as he was able, and then accompanied him back up the stairs and out to the road. They had both made a brief search of the pond's banks for his backpack and bicycle, but neither were anywhere to be found. They did, however, find Sora's pair of sneakers, which were sitting close to where he could remember 'coming to'. Despite his memory being so hazy, it made perfect sense that his sneakers were here, simply because it was near impossible for him to believe that he had managed to run halfway across town, all on the blades of his skates. So somehow, despite his unconscious need to get away, some semblance of rationality had managed to bleed through.

Assuring Sora that he was welcome any time, and completely unperturbed by the cost, Ansem had paid for a taxi to take Sora back to the local rink, and then on to his home.

Sora couldn't thank Ansem enough – not only for tending to his injuries, but also for helping him find his light again. He was determined now, more than ever, to make his dream come true.

Interestingly enough, Sora had returned to the rink to collect the rest of his belongings, and found them all neatly situated inside one of the public lockers. He still didn't have so much as an inkling as to how he had changed out of his hockey gear, but luckily there didn't seem to be anything else missing, besides his sneakers.

Retrieving his pack, Sora changed into a spare set of long pants, and threw his compromised pair of hockey pants straight into the trash. Returning home was going to be nerve-wracking enough, without his mother freaking out about the state of his leg, as well.

"I'm home, Mum," Sora murmured, stepping into the brightly lit kitchen. His mother was standing with her back to him, stirring something on the stovetop with sharp, jerky movements. It was immediately obvious she was frazzled, and Sora couldn't help but feel a little sheepish. He had left his mobile phone at the rink, and had missed several of her calls and messages. She was bound to be beside herself with worry.

At the sound of his voice, Sora's mother turned on her heel, her eyes impossibly wide.

"Oh my, goodness, Sora, where have you been – I've been worried sick! The school rang me and told me about practice, but why weren't you answering your phone!? You know better than to run off like that!"

Despite how angry she sounded, her expression told Sora otherwise, as she stomped across the space dividing them and wreathed him into a rough embrace. Sora clung to her, taking comfort in knowing that at least someone at home still cared for him.

"I'm sorry…I just…had to get away for a while," Sora mumbled into her shoulder, hugging her back just as hard.

His mother pulled away hurriedly, her worried eyes flickering over the bandages on his face before swiftly scrutinising the rest of him. Sora was glad his pants were covering his bandaged leg, and the large coat he was still wearing successfully hid the bruises along his arms and ribs. There was no point in worrying her even more with the full extent of his injuries. Sora didn't want to relive it. He just wanted to forget the whole thing.

Lightly brushing the tips of her fingers along Sora's bruised cheek, his mother breathed out a pained sigh. "Oh, look at you, you're all a _mess._ Vanitas told me some bully hit you too hard in practice."

At mention of his brother, Sora's eyes slid off to the side, looking out towards the living room. He could see Vanitas still sitting in there, facing away from him, and staring intently at the television.

He hadn't moved, but Sora knew he would be hearing everything.

Focussing back on his mother, Sora smiled tiredly, and hoped he sounded genuine. "Yeah...he didn't mean it, though...it was just an accident."

His mother hummed in agreement. "I'm sure it was. Such a rough sport, hockey. Who patched up your face? Did Goofy –,"

"Hey, Mum, listen." Sora was quick to cut off her barrage of questions, squeezing lightly at her upper arms to regain her attention. His mother blinked and fell silent instantly, picking up on the seriousness of his tone.

Sora took a deep breath. "I'm not going to play hockey anymore. Instead, I want to learn how to figure skate properly, under a professional coach. One of my friends recommended me someone who can teach me, so…do you think you could pay for my lessons?"

"Oh!" His mother cried, a wide, surprised smile already pulling at her cheeks. "Of course, I would love to, honey! If that's what you want to excel in, then I'm fine with that – as long as it doesn't affect your studies."

Matching his mother's happy grin, Sora hugged her tight again, so overjoyed to know that she supported him. He wasn't sure of what his father would say, but he was done with caring about what other's thought of him, or his figure skating. He was going to succeed – no matter what!

"Thanks, Mum! I promise I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," his mother squeezed him warmly and pressed a small kiss to the top of his head. "And maybe one day, I'll see you skate at the Olympics!"

"You can count on it!" Sora laughed, slowly stepping out of her arms. He hadn't been so sure she would want to pay for professional coaching, but now he felt like he'd been worried for nothing! Of course, she would be there for him; she'd never let him down before.

Careful in hiding his limp, Sora walked back over towards the doorway, intent on heading upstairs to his room.

"I'm gonna go and clean up before dinner."

Noticeably more at ease, now that she knew he was home safe, Sora's mother wandered back over to the stovetop and stirred at a simmering saucepan sitting on the elements. "Okay, sweetie. Dinner will be ready in fifteen."

Nodding with a small smile still in place, Sora slowly hobbled out of the room and over towards the staircase. He paused with his foot on the first step, a sudden thought occurring to him.

There was no point in leaving it. It was now or never.

Squaring his shoulders, and steeling himself, Sora turned and limped into the living room instead.

Vanitas didn't so much as look at him as Sora entered, his eyes still trained on the television in front of him.

Sora stood there and bundled up what little courage he had and stood his ground. He could only manage staring at the floor at Vanitas' feet, but his words were still strong.

"I'm not okay…with what you did. But I forgive you."

Vanitas didn't react at all, still studiously choosing to ignore him. Sora forged on.

"I want you to know, that I'm not going to stop skating…and I'm going to prove you wrong. No matter what."

Sighing explosively, Vanitas flicked the remote in his hand at the television and cranked up the volume to full blast.

Sora was already done talking, but if anything, Vanitas' message was loud and clear.

Without another word, Sora made his way out of the living room and began negotiating his way up the stairs, his hands clenching hard along the banister.

He wasn't going to give up – no matter how long it took him, or whoever tried to stand in his way.

Come hell or high water, he was going to succeed - just like Ventus Strife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ansem owns a business called 'Ansem's Aromatherapy'. He's actually making scented soaps and candles in his underground laboratory. I bet you weren't expecting THAT. XD


End file.
